1 Callie
I didn’t exactly plan on punching a customer in his slimy face this morning, but I can’t say I’m sorry about it either. And the riot act my boss is currently giving me doesn’t make me want to turn around and force out an ‘I’m sorry’ either.
“I pay you to do what the customers want, Callie!” Jerry hisses, his lips pulling back from the cigarette trapped in between his teeth. “I’m sure that outfit provoked him.”
Hip popped out, I look down at the outfit in question. I put my bra back on after my set onstage when Jerry dragged me over to a regular who reeked of beer and couldn’t lift his eyes above my chest. The customer forced a pathetic amount of crumbled and partially damp bills into my hands before trying to usher me off towards a room with him. When I told the both of them I wouldn”t be sleeping with the guy, they got angry with me. I refused to even go talk somewhere private, knowing he expected more than a dance. Jerry and the creep got pretty unhappy with me when I wouldn’t move to one of the rooms for privacy.
“Honestly,” Jerry continues, and I”m not ashamed to admit I’m only half listening. “You can”t punch paying customers in the face!”
“You can”t pretend this is a brothel when it”s a strip club,” I argue back, picking at my nails. I broke two of them punching that guy, and I know they were ready to be ripped off but damn. That hurt more than the actual punch, and I only did because he touched me.
Stripping is all I do at this seedy club. My mind might think up tons of things to do with nefarious men who could make my body sing, but none of the patrons here are doing it for me. I want to be able to trust, not be scared I’ll be abused for putting my faith in someone.
I didn”t even catch the guy”s name. He kept twirling pieces of my blonde waves between his fingers before I finally snapped and hit his hand away. That’s when he started grabbing for other parts of me and I lost it. He tried to punch back but Jerry finally freaked out and caught his hand. I refused to go anywhere with the two of them, so half the club could see what happened right by the management office. That”s bad for business.
I”m not dumb. Jerry barely manages to be reliable enough to pay me. I”m not about to trust him for anything else like my safety when he’s trying to convince me to sleep with the guy like a hired escort. It would take a lot for me to give that trust up to anyone, which is why my desires never come true. I want to be used like a toy, but by men who make my body sing instead of scream.
“You work for me,” Jerry growls, sweat beading across his forehead. He’s getting impatient with me, but I’m just about done putting up with him. “I know high paying clients who would hire you for more than you make an hour flashing your body at pervs.”
I shoot an eyebrow up. “Pervs like you?”
He groans, shaking his head. “You”re costing me a pretty penny, Callie. Girls like you are more trouble than they”re worth.”
I chuckle , gesturing behind me to the club. “Is that why I’m the only weekday girl that can bring in a full house? Because I’m not worth the trouble?”
Jerry sneers but says nothing because he doesn”t have a good comeback. Half the dancers here think our line of work is beneath them, so there”s no passion in the movement when they are onstage. Some aren”t good at it or so methed-out they can barely stand, while others just don”t want to be here.
Me? I’m proud of my sexuality and I like showing off the body I work to keep in shape. If I could manage to find a guy that”s the perfect balance between kink freak and possessive I’d be set. Instead I keep finding losers who think they want what I do, and I either scare them away or they scare me. My ex-boyfriend is a great example of all talk and no game. I don”t regret staying single the last few months since that breakup, and he really did me in for wanting something as tiresome as a relationship from here on out.
Mind blowing sex? Absolutely, but even that is rarely all I need. I need a partner who can handle me, and makes me work to handle him, and so far the matchup hasn’t worked with anyone I’ve tried. I’m almost ready to just give up on men altogether.
“Callie,” Jerry tries again, turning his voice sweet and calm. It”s a sham, and he should know that this won”t work with me. “Let”s be reasonable here.”
“Don’t offer me up to fuck random men and we won’t have an issue.”
My skin pricks at the statement, because in reality I know that’s a lie. I”d love a guy who is possessive but respectful of my kinks too. I”d love to be a sex toy for a group, but only if someone is on my side. A guy, preferably my own personal Dominant, could ensure that safety if he cared.
That’s not what this is with my job. Jerry wants to sell me to anything with an STD because I”m one of the favorites at the club. Guys come to specifically see me dance, and Jerry thinks if he dangles enough ones in front of my face that I’ll cave and want to go along with the plan.
“You”re wasting all your opportunities,” he growls. “Someone like you doesn”t have much use and you”re not even capitalizing on your assets.”
I step forward and practically growl at him. Jerry is a short guy, and more than once I”ve used my added height in the stripper heels to glare down at him. He signs my checks, but they’re chump change compared to the tips I make onstage.
He doesn”t know anything. I”ve had a strange, albeit slightly questionable, email sitting in my inbox for two weeks. I”m still not sure how exactly this person - this couple really - got my contact info, but it”s an opportunity to get out of this club. I”m not sure it”s better, but it would be a change.
It’s more of a lifestyle club, less of a strip joint. The email didn’t mention stripping, so I’m not totally sure what I would even be doing there.
“I don”t have to put up with this,” I tell Jerry, flipping him off. My arm hurts when my hair drags over the new ink on my shoulder, and after dancing for the evening my skin is extremely sensitive from stretching. I”ll need to go home and give it a rest. “Go fuck yourself, Jerry. I’m worth more than you give me credit for.”
He”s screaming before I even make it to the backstage door to grab my things. I”m cool with him making a scene, because I”m not the one pushing. If he wants to treat me like dirt, I”ll do the same.
I go down to the changing rooms with him on my heels, collecting the handful of items I keep here, which is nothing much, since I don”t trust anyone I work with, and it”s easy to dump everything in my tote bag I always carry here and leave.
Turning to leave, I find my idiot of a boss still isn’t getting the point. Jerry blocks my way, his cheeks a deep red and his eyes full of anger. “Your boy came by looking for you the other day. The lawyer? He wanted to pay extra for you. I know you need the money, Callie. Stop being such a hardass. He’ll pay well.”
I roll my eyes. The lawyer is just a middle aged dude that fantasized about us running away together. I’m not really sure why, and I didn’t lead him on, but he always requests me when he stops in. I know he’s got a wife at home who doesn’t deserve his cheating. He’s tried to get me to suck his dick enough times I know him by name. “Phil just wants to feel powerful. Get one of the other girls to sleep with him if they want. He’ll pay, right?”
“What am I supposed to tell your regulars?” Jerry goes on, undeterred when his bad guilt trip doesn’t work.
“That my idiotic boss convinced me to leave,” I tell him, my voice fairly sweet. “Now move. I quit. You can tell Phil and every other regular that stops by that I”m gone.”
Jerry tries to block my way again and I shoulder check him to the side. “Put your hands on me, boss, and I”ll make sure you don”t grab anything else for a few weeks, including that short little pecker you like pushing against my thigh.”
He sputters, and I use the moment to make an exit. He”s still muttering as he follows, and to be honest I”m about to kick off the shoes and run out of here. If I wasn”t so worried about the floors I would”ve already.
Outside, the cool air slaps some sense into me and I take a shuddering breath. I just quit my job, but unless that bizarre email that I got is legit I don”t have extra money sitting around in a heap.
Jerry doesn’t give in, throwing open the door to shake a hand at me. “See who wants to hire your worthless ass now! A slut’s no good when she doesn’t put out!”
I flip him off again, mostly because if I get any closer I’ll rip out his tongue. I have a particular hate for the word slut, and listening to Jerry throw insults at me just makes me certain quitting was the right move.
Even if I’m broke I won’t have to put up with this place again. It’s a balm to the wound my pride just took, and my oh-so-classy boss loudly shows his colors as he calls me names until he tires of yelling. It doesn’t take long; that little run from the changing rooms winded him something fierce.
When he stops screaming I can finally get the little voices in my head to stop. I haven’t walked far, and the parking lot around the club isn’t crazy busy on a weekday. I take a steadying breath to calm the anger that itches to break free, reminding myself that going manic and destroying Jerry’s car won’t do me any favors.
But it might help me feel better.
I wrap one arm around my middle, trying to calm myself. I need to keep enough money circulating to make ends meet, not debate the best way to murder my boss.
Stomping into the parking lot, I let Jerry”s story replay in my head. I don”t know why Phil would be the tipping point for me. Sure, he paid decently, but he also thinks he”s a gift to women when he”s exactly the opposite. Jerry had nothing to offer me, and why he thinks tempting me with another man to sleep with is beyond me. That plan has blown up in his face more than once, and I won’t be sold to line his pockets.
The club shares a parking lot with a liquor store, a laundromat that has to be the front for a drug ring, and a taco truck. Getting to my car isn”t a big deal, although I do like parking closer to the liquor store than the club and it’s a slightly longer walk in these heels. The lights are burnt out on most of the windows so it”s pretty damn dark but the liquor store at least tries to keep itself clean, so the lighting is better the closer I get.
Still thinking of colorful ways to murder Jerry, I jog mindlessly to my ride. The coffee I can make in my fancy machine at home might need a splash or two of liquor to fix this night -
I shriek, jumping back as a dark, sleek car backs out of its parking spot and nearly runs me over. The driver wasn’t going fast, but they weren’t using those two useless eyeballs either, and I barely dodge the shiny bumper as it tries to slam into me. My heels do me no favors and I nearly topple over as the bumper narrowly misses hitting my thigh.
“Shit,” someone says, and I realize the window is rolled down. Even with the bad lighting in the parking lot my hair gives off just enough of a glow that I’m visible, and now that he’s acknowledged me I’m going to have to deal with this. Smoke drifts from the open window, a lit cigarette hanging on the edge of dark fingers.
My jaw ticks, following the large, veiny hand. He’s muscular, I can tell from the rippling in his forearm and the fit of his shirt. Dragging my eyes up, I realize he’s wearing something with a logo, but he isn”t turned far enough to see what it says. He reaches up to turn on an interior light as my heart tries to slow down, still studying the dude that tried to run me over.
When my gaze reaches his face, my heart stops. Dark, long lashes frame eyes that seem to look past every wall I’ve ever tried to build up. His intense gaze sweeps over me, corded muscle showing in his neck as he swallows, the depths of his dark skin seeming to glow even in the crappy lights. His interior lights create almost a halo effect behind him, and it takes a moment to realize he’s staring at me.
And I’m staring back.
“You all right?” he continues, letting the cigarette hang. I glance in his car, seeing bags of liquor in the passenger seat, and it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Those mocha eyes draw me in, making it hard to look away even as I start questioning what kind of drunk this dreamboat is. “You were moving awfully quick. Didn’t see you there.”
I glance down at the bumper where it sits entirely too close to my thigh. Taking two steps back, a scowl pulls at my lips. “You almost hit me!”
“I barely started backing out,” he replies skeptically.
“Yeah, backing out. Not racing. Did you need to pull back so fast?”
His lip twitches, and I almost think he’s fighting a smirk. “Didn’t tap you, did I?”
Now I really am scowling. “Cute. No, my excellent dodging skills kept me from a gnarly bruise.”
He chuckles. “Excellent dodging skills?”
Annoyed, I flip him the finger, and he proceeds to laugh harder. I shake my head at him before jogging around his bumper and continuing on my way.
“Careful out there!” he calls after me, and I resist the urge to say something else mouthy. “Don’t want you getting hurt.”
My skin tingles as I still feel his eyes on me, and I resist the urge to scrunch up my shoulders. Maybe he’s watching me, maybe it’s another bystander, but the feeling is so intense I nearly turn my head to look. Instead, I shove his words away, finishing the walk to my car and throwing myself inside. Once all four locks engage, a sense of safety overwhelms me.
What a dick. He couldn’t spend a few seconds to see if anyone was there before backing out in the dark?
My irritation grows as I pull out of the lot, and the fact that he follows immediately sets on my nerves on edge. The idiot could drive anywhere, but he stays almost directly behind me at first. My hand aches, adrenaline pumping as I imagine punching him if he’s intending on following me all the way home. Maybe I should deviate from my route, but where the hell am I going to drive to? There’s no immediate police station around without doubling back the way I just came from.
Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but the dumbass did almost hit me. He drives a sleek black car, and I can”t help wondering what type of alcoholic he is to have so many bottles in his car on a Tuesday. It blends in with the night, and if all that alcohol is for him he drives really freaking good, so maybe he’s bringing it home to party.
He follows behind me for several minutes before turning off, and I vaguely notice he”s pulling onto a well lit lot of a four-story building before I”m too far past the street. I shove the lush out of my head, deciding to focus on my job problem instead of a random driver.
Even if he”s a smoking hot driver. But he’s no longer tailing me, giving me the sense of unease, so I let him slip from my mind for now.
My townhouse has a decent sized lot, and I park as close as I can to my building. I”m not wedging my car into the tiny little spots by the buildings so it can get dinged in a few hours.
Hopping out, I grab the random bag from work and stomp to my door, creating an irrational plan to kill Jerry for being a dick in my head, and I decide to tack the hottie driver onto the list since he nearly took me out.
Inside I make that spiked coffee and try to find some zen. Getting mad isn”t getting me anywhere and I need a game plan, not a meltdown.
Maybe I judged that last job offer too harshly. They did reach out to me after all.
Walking to my laptop, I flip it open, searching for the message that had me questioning how legitimate the business is.
Dear Ms. Carter,
We are honored to invite you to visit us here at Sins and Secrets BDSM Club. We are part of an exclusive, members only establishment that caters to our clientele’s unique tastes. Our establishment is on a waitlist for members, but our sources tell us that you would be an exceptional candidate for our staff if you are looking for a change in employment.
SS is a safe sex environment that allows members with different kink preferences to explore their limits in a controlled area while limiting potential dangers. Our staff caters to the members” needs including serving drinks, checking for available rooms, and ensuring that any toys are available for their pleasure. Staff members oftentimes assist with demonstrations in our theater as well to ensure that participants at the club have ample opportunities to learn new techniques in a safe way.
Our staff is not up for sale, and although we do have an auction service, this is a separate entity from what the staff participates in. We do not sell sex outside of voluntary auctions, and staff members are free to participate in the club at will. Your agreement to join our staff entails a short shift to get members set up each night, and then you are free to play as little or as much as you please. If you would prefer to earn an income during the entirety of your shift, availability to help members with questions and refills on beverages keeps you making an income as you participate however you please.
We do not pressure members into participation, be it a paying member or a staff member. Your body is your own and your consent is vital to anything happening within the walls of the club or with another member.
If you would be interested in learning more about our employment or discovering our club, we recommend stopping in for an informal interview and seeing the sights for yourself. The BDSM community is not for everyone but as a member of the staff you will see more than an average member might. We encourage you to express your boundaries so you can remain comfortable and in control of your experience.
Our contact information is listed below, and we look forward to hearing from you if SS caters to your interests. We can answer any questions, and we’ve provided the necessary medical forms ahead of time for this type of environment.
Play safe,
Jo Surwright Vinny Ajello, co-owners of Sins and Secrets
If I hadn”t just gotten myself fired, I would probably continue to ignore them. But at the bottom there”s an option to do a working interview, and if it doesn”t work out they cash pay for the hours you were there.
It could be incredibly risky. This isn”t a normal strip joint.
My hand flexes over the bottom of my keyboard. Maybe it”s supposed to be something more. Lifestyle clubs are a bit out of my comfort zone, and I can’t say I’ve had experience with them.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I press reply and hope I”m not screwing myself again. Working at a lifestyle club was never really on my agenda, but this could be the change I need.
~~~